


WHITE ROOM

by Jeyfeather1234



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 13 ain't coming out in one piece, 13 gets held captive aboard an alien ship and gets tortured, 13 kinda loses it towards the end, 13 stays with the Khans for a little while, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, I try to write the Doctor's descent into madness, I'm Sorry, I'm trying to write horror bear with me guys, Isolation, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jack and the fam team up to save her in the end, Koschei's in this for a little bit, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Self-Harm, Sensory Deprivation, This is gonna be really angsty, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, but it's still angsty, readers can have a little Time Lord Victorious as a treat, shall I compare thee to a wilting rose?, she gets therapy sort of, stinky science mom Tecteun is also in this, surprise! There's surviving Time Lords because I said so, the angst is kinda poetic because I'm like that, the specific form is called "white torture" for those of you morbidly curious readers, well she does but not mentally, white torture is fucked up just so you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeyfeather1234/pseuds/Jeyfeather1234
Summary: She's slipping. Further and further, she drowns in the white that enslaves her.Thirteen, in exchange for Earth's safety, is held prisoner aboard an alien ship where her sanity withers and wilts as the days pass.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Jack Harkness, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	1. Day 000

The Doctor huffs as she runs up the eighth flight of stairs to the top of the tower. Her legs ache but her mind screams at her to keep running for the sake of her friends and the planet. She can't lose this one too. Not after what happened with Gallifrey. Not with the Master's words echoing at the back of her mind. _When did you last go home? We're not who you think we are, you or I. The lie of the Timeless Child._ No. That shouldn't be the objective now. Save her friends and Earth; that's what she should be focused on, not the Master. The Doctor unlocks the last door with her sonic and shoves the heavy door with all her strength. "Let them go!" she snarls in desperation and rage, glaring at their captors. The humanoid aliens turn to face her, amusement glittering in their eyes. Ryan, Yaz, and Graham are tied up to chairs. Yaz's teeters on the edge of the building. The sky is dark and shrouded in nearly black clouds. Lightning flashes occasionally as the strong gust of wind causes the Doctor's hair to dance and whip violently like vicious golden cobras. "Let my friends go," she growls, fixing a steely gaze on the leader, a tall woman with curled horns protruding from her forehead and the sides of her head. Xatra, as she was called, chuckles.

"Oh my," she murmurs. "What a fierce little thing you are." _Little?!_ The Doctor bristles with rage but keeps her voice leveled.

"Release them," she orders, "and take me instead." She ignores the fam's muffled protests, keeping her gaze solely on the alien. "I must be worth something to you, right? I'll take their place so long as you don't harm them and get off this planet." Xatra grinned, baring her fangs.

"What if I don't? What will the silly little Time Lady do if I kill her pets?" she sneers. "Destroy my species as you did to so many others in the past?" Her tail swishes as she steps closer. The Doctor doesn't move. "Tell me, Doctor, would you do it? Would you destroy us for the sake of one tiny blue planet?"

"Yes," she responds quietly. Xatra laughs.

"You are no savior," she says amusingly. "You're only a destroyer of worlds." Lightning flashes and the Doctor wonders how she must look to the fam. A furious woman with flowing hair and a jacket that waves like a flag behind her; an angry god- _goddess_ perhaps in the heart of a storm. The Oncoming Storm. "Hm. Very well then," Xatra waves a hand to her men, "your friends can go free in exchange for your life. Boys..." The burly men untie the fam from their chairs and twist the Doctor's arms behind her. She hears a click as they cuff her hands and force her to kneel. Yaz tries to shove her way past the guard keeping her in place and calls out her name. Her eyes are desperate and pleading. _Don't do this. Please don't leave us. We need you!_ they silently scream. Ryan and Graham have the same pleading and heartbroken look though they don't fight back. It makes the Doctor's hearts ache so she avoids their gazes as they're dragged away. Xatra crouches in front of her, a sly grin on her face. "Now you're a lonely god," she murmurs, twitching her tail in amusement. "Soon, no one will be able to hear your screams. Soon you won't remember your pets' faces or even who you are." Oh. So they were going to torture her. That's fine, the Doctor muses. She's been tortured before. She can stand a little pain if it meant saving the planet. Xatra stands and yanks her hair so she's standing as well. "Come along, little pet. It's time we get you out of those ridiculous clothes."


	2. Day 001

The first thing they did was remove her coat and crush her sonic screwdriver until it was nothing more than crumbles of metal. They stripped her of her familiar, comfortable clothing and replaced them with a thin, silky white garment that reached her ankles. They pulled out her earring and tossed it in the trash before leading her to a room at the end of a white hall. "Food will be deposited at noon and sunset. Slide this piece of paper underneath the door if you have to use the bathroom. You are permitted from speaking to anyone who comes to visit lest you wish to be severely punished. Do you understand?" her guard asked, giving her a hard look as he handed her a blank slip of copy paper.

"Yes," she muttered, holding his gaze. He opened the door and shoved her inside. The door didn't make a sound as it closed. The Doctor sat up and surveyed her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that it was cold. So cold, that her garment did nothing to shield her from the cold air blasting from the vent above her. The room was completely white and smooth. Even the ceiling itself showed no trace of any nicks or scratches. Four white rods of light on the ceiling was positioned in a way so that no shadows could form. There wasn't even a window, she noticed with dismay. She paced the room and felt the corners with her fingers. Everything looked brand new. Why? She sat on the foot of her stiff bed and flexed her fingers. "Okay," she murmured. "This is different. Can't talk to anyone but myself in here anyway." She stared at the windowless door. "Could use a bit more color but this isn't so bad. I can work with this." She considered her options: A) stay in this cell and let them torture her however they wanted until they grew bored and decided to kill her or B) try to escape, risking death, and somehow reunite with the fam and her TARDIS. Both were risky scenarios. Even if she did escape her cell, how would she get to an escape pod? She didn't even know the ship that well. Could she stand this place for more than a few days in complete and utter isolation with nothing but her thoughts? "If it means keeping Earth safe, then yes." She would do anything to protect humanity. _Even if it means becoming Death?_ a small voice at the back of her mind whispered. _Would you become the Master if it meant saving a tiny blue marble in the vastness of space?_ The Doctor pushed the thought away, not wanting to answer the dreaded question. "Shut up, Brain Sixteen," she grumbled, wrapping the blanket around her. Brain Sixteen was always a buzzkill. So were Brains Four and Five, but mostly Sixteen. The dumb organ didn't know when to shut up about her past and would cause her to think about unwanted thoughts. God forbid she had to face her trauma and open up about it to her companions one day(that's number Four. Four can be snarky like that sometimes).

A few times she tried to get some sleep (shocker, right?). She tossed and turned in her bed but to no avail. The lights were too bright and the air was too cold. As childish as it seemed, she never liked the dark. Maybe it was the primal fear of being eaten by Vashta Nerada or something else, she didn't know. Whenever she did sleep, she always kept a dim light on. This was entirely different. This was having the sun directly in your face except you're in the middle of Antarctica. Alone. The outcast, abandoned and unknown. A noise startled her from her thoughts. She twisted around and glimpsed a slot from the exterior of the room being opened and a paper plate was slipped through. It fell to the floor along with the contents on it. White rice. Brain Ten was trying to tell her something but she didn't listen to him (she rarely did). She was much more interested in the food. There wasn't a utensil or anything to grab the food with beside her hands but that didn't matter since she hadn't eaten much besides a few custard cremes which Yaz(brilliant Yaz) had scolded her about. Brain Two thinks Yaz might have a crush on her. Four thinks it'll get her killed one day. _No, we're talking about food, you dumbasses,_ the Doctor thinks with mild annoyance. She takes a handful and tastes it. "Hm, unsalted," she mumbled through the grain, "and halfway undercooked. Honestly, these people have terrible cooks." Nevertheless, she ate the food anyway. There's no telling whether the guard was serious about the scheduled meals or if Xatra would actually keep her alive. All the Doctor could do was wait for the outcome and, if she was lucky, a rescue party. "This is fine. I'll be fine in the end. Probably."


	3. Day 002

The white room, as she now calls it, was awfully quiet. She didn't like complete silence. It made her unwanted thoughts seem loud. She tried pressing her ear to the wall in hope of hearing something, anything, but to no avail. The room's either soundproof or there weren't any guards watching her cell. Or maybe there were and they just stayed a good distance away from the door because they're scared. Or perhaps they want her to be scared. She didn't know. She hated not knowing what was going on. It made her feel useless like a rat being experimented on. Was that was Xatra was doing with her? Was she testing something, a new method of torture, perhaps? "Well, whatever it is it's certainly working," the Doctor grumbled as she sat on the bed. Her hands itched to do something but there was nothing to fix or tear apart. Well, there was the bed but that was boring. Besides, she'd done that at least twenty times today. She ran a hand through hair and sighed in frustration. Who was she supposed to talk to? Oh, that's right. No one. It was only her and the deafening silence 'round her. She sat in a corner of the room and drummed her nails on the floor. _1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4..._

 _"Contact,"_ she tried telepathically. Perhaps she could find the Master here. It was better than nothing, right? "Contact." Nothing. Actually, there was something. It was a thick psychic shield used to block telepaths from conversating with each other. Clever girl, she thought wryly. It must be covering the entire cell. She tilted her head back. No sound, no one to talk to, and no color. Only the cold air and blinding white. "If there's any way to drive a person insane quickly it's..." She trails off for a moment, piecing the puzzle together in her mind. "Oh..." Oh, she gets it now.

"I don't like it when you go quiet," Yaz would say if she and the boys were here with her.

"Doc, what is it?" Graham asked, frowning with worry.

"Sensory deprivation," the Doctor murmured.

"You mean like the tanks in the mall?" Ryan this time. The Doctor nodded, standing up.

"Exactly! Ten points for Synclair," she praised. "It's like that but worse. This room isn't designed to help you; it tears you apart. Not literally, of course, but mentally. If the only thing you see is white for weeks, months, _years_ even, it drives you insane." _Is that what they want to do? Drive me insane and then...?_ Then what? Kill her? Send her back to the TARDIS broken beyond repair? "I need to get out of here." She scrambled to her feet and stood on top of the bed. Using the pillows as leverage, she tried reaching for the air vent. After many attempts, she grew exhausted and sat down. "If my legs were longer, I could reach the ceiling," she muttered bitterly. Her gaze fell on the foam cup of milk on the floor. For a moment, she contemplated drinking it. They hadn't given her anything to eat at all despite the guard's words. It was most likely meant to drive her more insane. All she had to do was maintain her sanity for as long as she could. "Shouldn't be too hard, right?"


	4. Day 003

"The mind is a terribly fragile thing," Xatra said as she filed her nails. "It's like thin ice. One misstep and it could all shatter. How fragile is yours?" The Doctor sat in a corner of the room, trembling from the cold. Her gaze was locked on the door that was opened just a tiny bit. She couldn't see anything past it but she knew there was a white hall that led to the floor where they kept the other prisoners locked up. If she could just come up with a foolproof plan... A leather boot hit her in the face. She groaned in pain and placed her hand to her mouth as she tasted blood. "Eyes on me, bitch." She spat defiantly on the alien's foot and hissed. Xatra grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the floor. The Doctor groaned as she was forcefully kicked in the side. She inhaled sharply as her captor yanked her up by her hair and growled.

"You can't keep me here forever," she wheezed. Xatra grinned.

"I don't plan to," she responded. "When I'm done with you, the Doctor will no longer exist."

"Wh...what are you...?"

"Do you think your pets will want to be around you still after I tell them how much blood is on your hands? No, not your hands. There's too much of that to be on there solely. No, you're _covered_ in the blood of _innocent lives_ whom you stole. The lives of your own _children_ stain your clothes. Imagine how they must feel. Imagine how they'd respond if they were to see you now. Do you think they'd still call you 'Mother' after you destroyed so much?" The Doctor lunged, knocking her back as she grabbed her throat and squeezed with as much strength she could muster.

"Don't you dare talk about my children!" she snarled hatefully. "You don't know them. You'll never know them!" Xatra let out a strangled cry as she attempted to claw at her face. Someone strong and heavy tore The Doctor off her and that made her more furious. She twisted and tried to snap at them, spitting foul Gallifreyan phrases and insults at the man holding her by the scruff of her coat as if she were a tiny kitten. Mere seconds later, she was thrown into the wall and an unfriendly fist slammed into the side of her head.

She woke up with a throbbing headache and a sore back. When she tried getting up, her arms wouldn't move and the room spun so she resigned to slouching against the wall like a ragdoll. _Your arms won't work because you're in a straightjacket, dumbass,_ Brain Sixteen tells her with an exasperated tone. Right, of course. The back of her head hurts like hell but she can stand the pain. What she couldn't stand were Xatra's taunts. Just thinking about them filled her with an inexplicable rage that burned like wildfire in her hearts. _Like Gallifrey,_ a tiny voice in her mind whispers. _It burns like Gallifrey and the 2.47 billion children you failed to save._ The words hurt like a spear being driven through her chest. Her eyes stung but she shut her eyes. When she did, she saw the ruins of her home and inhaled the toxic smoke coming from the Citadel. She saw the flames and heard her people's anguished and mournful cries loud and clear. Their screams and wails were too much to bear but she couldn't turn away. Not when her children were right there staring at her in horror and betrayal and...and...

She realized that it was her screaming. Her wails and sobbing echoed off the walls and bounced back towards her, attacking her. No more. No more. "Please, just let me die this time. Why can't I die? Why can't I just be kind for once? Why must I suffer?" Why, why, why? No one answers her calls. No one can hear her. She is alone in her sorrow and grief. The cold bites and lashes at the beautiful rose, once white now stained in crimson. Eternal loneliness gnaws at her bones and drains her hearts of a will to go, to move forward and run. She is trapped and no one can hear her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking at the last two paragraphs: Damn, I wrote this?
> 
> Anyway, tomorrow we're gonna get into the psychological effects of extreme isolation and sensory deprivation.


	5. Day 004

The white is blinding. It mocks her. It screams, "We are pure. We are holy. You will never be like us, you who drinks the blood of the innocent and laughs in the face of crying children." _Shut up, shut up, shut up. You're not real._ The Doctor shoved herself off the hard floor, using the wall as support. She couldn't stay here any longer. Her thoughts were too loud. The white was too bright. The room was too cold. Where was she? Where were they going? Why did she even think this was a good idea in the first place? _Because you were desperate,_ Brain Two says. _You couldn't lose another planet just like how you lost Gallifrey._ She began to pace and scan the room wildly like a caged animal (because that's she was, wasn't she? The feral Beast of Trenzalore). Her walk quickened into a jog which turned into a run. Run, run, run. Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run. Don't let the farmer catch you, lest he shoots you with his gun. She crashes into the door, clawing frantically at the lines and ramming her elbow into it. Her heartbeats become more rapid and her body trembles. They're faint but she hears them. The drums. The neverending drums that plague her counterpart's mind without ceasing. _1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4._ The drum beats that play on repeat over and over and over again start to become louder. She rams her body against the door, pleading for someone, anyone to open the door and let her out, let her run from the wretched noise. She wails as her legs shudder and give way. She tries to breathe, to get a grip on reality, but the white. The white, it mocks her unyieldingly. It laughs in her face and no matter where she turns, its many eyes bore into her soul and snarl cruel words with its many mouths.

"You will never be like us. You are foolish. You are cruel. You are cowardly. You murdered your own children."

"No, no no no no no no no no no..."

"You are alone. Your friends have abandoned you. No one will ever mourn your death. They will rejoice and the creatures of the earth will feast on your flesh and bones. The inhabitants will sing of how the Beast of Trenzalore was slain and will trample over your dead body."

"No, _no, NO!"_

"You are no better than the Daleks. You are no better than the Master. You are Death Itself and-" She screams. The sound tears at her lungs but she doesn't care about the pain. She'd do anything to drown out the sound of drums and the voices tormenting her. She screams until her throat is dry and she can't produce any more sound. She wonders briefly if she's broken her vocal cords. She took in a shaky breath and lowered her head to lap at the bowl of milk set for her. Milk, white rice, raw cauliflowers, and egg white, was all she'd been eating since she'd gotten here. Everything including the milk had no flavor whatsoever. It was bland, tasteless, herbless, and continuously mocking her for her unconfessed sins. She wondered how much more of this torture she could bear. The Doctor inhaled and curled into a ball. She closed her eyes and tried to the welcoming darkness of sleep but it would not come. Nothing came in this freezing cell with blinding lights were never turned off. Nothing but pain and misery.


	6. Day 005

The lack of sleep makes her mind more vulnerable to the white that torments her. She tries to distract herself by thinking of a way to escape. The air vent was too high and small so she couldn't crawl through there. If she could knock out the guards and get to an escape pod... "Why bother?" the white taunts. "Why not succumb and admit that you're nothing? You don't even know who you are."

"I'm the Doctor," she snaps at the gaping jaws next to her feet.

"Do you really?" A trickle of doubt seeps into her brains as she remembers Ruth and her TARDIS.

"No. No, that's not true," she convinces herself, trying to block out the white. "I know who I am. I'm-"

"An imposter," it hisses poisonously. "You're not special. You're not important. You're just a lost, broken soul with no hope." _Shut up, shut up, shut up._ "You lie to yourself because you know deep down that it's true."

"Get out of my head," she snarled, curling her lips. She turned away and sat on her bed. Her hands trembled but she willed them to stay still. Don't break. Don't give them what they want. "It's not real," she reminded herself. "You're just tired, Doctor." Doctor. Did she even deserve the title still? _Yes. Yes, you've always been the Doctor,_ Brain Two assures her. _You'll always be the Doctor. Your friends are counting on you to stay alive._ "My fam." She missed them so much. What were they up to now? Were they back home going about their daily lives? Were they grieving, thinking that she was dead? She hoped they were trying to find a way to rescue her. The Doctor was quite fond of staying sane.

_Funny you should say that considering what happened yesterday._

_I'm fine now._

_Are you, really?_

_Yes, now shut up. I'm trying to concentrate._

_On what?_

_Staying sane, you idiot._ She huffed, running a hand through her hair. A part of her wondered if the walls really were taunting her or if it was all part of her deteriorating sanity. Shame washed over her at the memory of herself screaming like a madwoman. "Get a grip," she scolded herself. "You can't keep having a breakdown every time someone triggers you. Focus on staying sane, Doctor. Do it for Ryan, Yaz, and Graham." Ryan, Yaz, and Graham. Gotta remember their names and faces. The thought of forgetting what her friends looked like deeply unsettled her. It was enough to distract her from the loneliness that gnawed at her hearts day and night. _Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, Clara, Bill, Ryan, Yaz, Graham. Remember._

_"Run, you clever boy and remember."_


	7. Day 006

She didn't eat her food the next day. She didn't want it. She yearned for the sweet taste of biscuits and custard creams. "Stupid girl," the white hissed. "You will never know its taste any longer. You will never know the taste of Earl Grry tea in the morning or know what color is. This is your eternal prison."

"They're going to come and get me," she replied, wrapping herself in the thin sheets. "They wouldn't abandon me."

"Why not? What's so special about you that they need to abandon their home planet and families to follow a traveler who can't even face her own past?"

"I can!" she snarled, baring her teeth at the monster.

"Then why haven't you told them? Why do you lie?"

"They'd never understand." She dug her nails into the fabric, twisting it repeatedly to stave off restless. "Nobody does."

"You're a coward." The Doctor flung the plate of food at the wall in frustration. The plastic fork made a tiny sound as it hit the target and clattered to the ground. "How childish of you. Throwing a temper tantrum at your age." Before she could hiss an insult, the door opened and the guard who usually cleaned up her mess walked in. He glanced at the food disapprovingly before roughly grabbing her arms and taking her out of the cell.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to stay calm. But she was being dragged down a hall like a toy and she had no idea what they were going to do to her. "What are you going to do to me?" Her breathing quickened as two other men in white clothing and padded shoes roughly manhandled her into a separate room with a shower. She hissed and snapped as they removed her clothing and shoved her into the shower. Ice cold water was immediately poured on her head, causing her to yelp in surprise. It would've been nice if she could have some privacy but no. The guards were rude enough to bathe her themselves despite her being capable enough to wash herself. Eventually, she gave up struggling and let them have their way. She shuddered both from the cold and the feeling of people touching her. What were they thinking now? What vile intentions did were plotting to make her succumb to their will? She didn't want to think about it.

After what felt like an eternity, she was dragged out and dried with a towel that felt more like thorns than actual cloth. She figured this must be what cats feel whenever they were forced by their owners to bathe in a tub. _At least you don't smell like crap anymore,_ Brain Two says, trying to stay optimistic despite the circumstances. _Yeah, but now you have more trauma to live with,_ Brain Sixteen mutters bitterly. For once, the Doctor had to agree with the latter. _I'd rather smell like piss for a whole month than have people give me a bath._ She was given a cup of warm milk and had to be force-fed terribly undercooked rice. They threatened to rape her if she refused to comply next time. She puked out her food in response and laid in bed for the rest of the day. Despite her exhaustion, she willed herself to stay awake for fear of the oncoming nightmares.


	8. Day 007

Day Seven is when they start drugging her. Xatra had her placed in a similar room to her cell except it was smaller and didn't have a bed. She was put in a straight jacket and tied to a chair that was very uncomfortable to sit in. The captain stroked her cheek and pushed back her hair from her face. "I heard you were being a bad girl yesterday," she said, looking disappointed in a mocking way. "You hurt my feelings. I was going to give you a treat for your good behavior." She lifted a bottle of cold ginger ale to show her. The Doctor's eyes widened slightly before averting her gaze. _This is a trick,_ she thought. _This is just to taunt you._ "You want a sip, don't you?" _Yes._ "Do you want to down the bottle?" _I'd love to._ She shook her head in denial. _No, you don't. You don't need it. It'll just get you drunk and then you'll be back in that room with the white screaming at you._ Xatra smiled smugly. "Have you been a good girl today? Did you eat all your food?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" She yanked her hair forward.

"Yes, Master."

"Good. I only ask for a little respect and compliance. In return, you can have a little treat if you're a good girl. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master." She snapped her fingers and a guard appeared with a syringe filled with a light blue liquid. The Doctor lifted her head a little, feeling a small sense of joy at having remembered what blue looked like after being stuck in that wretched cell. Xatra asked if she could tell what drug it was by the smell. She sniffed cautiously. "Tetrasibilledryn with a hint of...glannate. Both are highly addictive narcotics that can be purchased in the intergalactic black market."

"My, my. What a clever girl you are," Xatra purred, stroking her cheek. The Doctor shivered. "Yes, you're absolutely right about that. First, we're going to drug you. Then, we're going to kill everyone on Earth and blow up your ship."

"No, no. You said-"

"I lied, obviously. Earth isn't anything special anyway. Neither are your friends. Speaking of which," she winced as the needle was stabbed into her neck, "they died a few days ago."

"Wh...? No," she mumbled, shaking her head as the drugs started to kick in. "Can't be true."

"It is. I had my men kill them because they probably would've found a way to get you back and we can't have _that_ happening, now can we?" She blinked a few times, trying to fight off the sleepiness. That wasn't true, was it? Her fam, her companions, they weren't dead were they? "Don't worry, it's not like they actually cared about you."

"No, no, no," she whispered. Her muscles eased and her jaw relaxed as she sighed.

"Doesn't that feel nice?"

"Hmmm..." Her eyelids grew heavy and her head drooped as the drugs took over.

* * *

_She dreams of a great city crumbling to dust and burning all around her. The fire does not hurt her but she wails anyway. She crumbles as the walls echo her cries of anguish. She pays no heed to the broken glass that splinters her skin or the thorns from now charred flowers that dig into her hands. Everything burns and so must she, the fallen star, weeping for a kingdom that is no more._


	9. Day 008

She used to sing sometimes before she was put in this colorless cage. When she was alone, she sang lullabies to the dying stars and songs of welcome to the ones being born. She still remembers the songs her grandmothers used to sing to her at times. Recently, Yaz had gotten her into Coldplay. Yellow was her favorite so she sang that often. It helped a little since the song reminded her of her fam. She wondered if they were still out there somewhere, perhaps trying to find a way to get her back to them. Were they even alive still? They must be. They had to be. She couldn't let them down. She couldn't leave them like she did with the others. She needed to run. _Run you clever boy, and remember._ "Your cleverness is your downfall," the white hisses. "You don't even know what you look like." That was true. She had forgotten what her face looked like since there were no reflective surfaces anywhere in the cell. Her blonde hair was deepening to a brown color. _Like a wilting rose._ She missed Rose. Sweet, wonderful, brilliant Rose. If only she had longer arms back then...

Her food arrives and with it came the threats and insults from the guards. They called her a whore and that she should be more like the porn stars on the telly. She simply nods in silent agreement. Maybe that's why everyone she cares about breaks her heart. Maybe if she sold herself to those who wanted her for pleasure, however short-lived that may be, she wouldn't have to grieve for the people who'd hurt and loved her at the same time. She wouldn't be stuck here, withering away in a room where no one could hear her cries of anguish. "I'm just a traveler," she had said to Yaz one day. _Just a traveler and a murderer and a whore._ She pushes her finished plate away and crawls into bed. Someone used to occupy the bed in her room. She doesn't remember who, but she remembers their touch and warm breath on her neck. If her body wasn't so appalled by the thought of sexual intercourse, she probably would've touched herself. She curls into a ball and listens to the white scream insults at her. She allows the ravens to make nests in her ribcage and to pick at the flowerbeds in her garden. What use does she have of flowers anymore?


	10. Day 010

She hates it when they take her out of her cell to bathe or be injected but she doesn't fuss. She steels herself as they drag her down the white corridor to the next room and drop her onto a chair or into the freezing water. They don't call her by her favored alias, something she quickly picked up over the past two days. Xatra gave her pet names like dear and sweetheart. The Doctor can't say anything or else she'll be punished. Just yesterday she'd been beaten for calling her a bitch. Everything had hurt so much, she could barely lift herself off the floor. Today she was given narcotics and a mixture of recreational drugs she couldn't identify. It makes her numb and exhausted so she doesn't feel the ravens pecking at her hearts. She doesn't feel the fire as it licks her coat or the smoke that burns her lungs. She lifted her head off the ground as the door opened and someone came to talk to her. Her brains don't register their face. Everything's fuzzy today. Faces don't matter, anyway, she's told. Nothing matters because the universe hates her and she should just give up on hope. No one is coming to save her. No one will ever hear her. That is the indisputable truth. Her head tilts in a strange manner as she tries to put a name on the face in front of her. As she does so, her body leans to one side and she has to clutch the wall to not topple over. The face becomes obscure at the edges and she can't help but laugh. She doesn't know why she's laughing. _Must be the drugs,_ she reckons, leaning back against the wall that slants at a weird angle. The visitor leaves her alone in her garden of wilting flowers and dying plants. She thinks they used to be blooming and vibrant at one point before they started withering. She sits underneath a tree and pulls her legs close to her chest. She remembers there used to be a pond here before the sun scorched it up and drove the animals away. The only thing that keep her company are the crows that caw repeatedly, "Fallen, fallen is Gallifrey the Great. Alas, alas, that great city that was clothed in fine linen, purple, and scarlet, and adorned with gold and precious stones and pearls! For in one hour such great riches came to nothing."


	11. Day 013

The drugs make her lose track of time. It makes time feel slow, like molasses dripping down a wall. She's told that time doesn't matter in this place though she's certain it must if she can feel it fluctuate and bend around her in an uncomfortable way. She shudders and wraps the blanket tighter around her. She'd gotten considerably thinner over the past few days _(weeks? Months?)._ She wonders what she must look like now. Will she look the same when(if) she's free from the white room? Will her companions recognize her? _No, wait. They're dead, aren't they?_ Xatra had said that her men had killed them and blown up the TARDIS. _My beautiful ghost monument,_ the Doctor thinks mournfully. _I miss you._ She tries to tell herself that everything she's been told is a lie, that she's being gaslit and manipulated so they could break her will and destroy what little hope she has left. She tries to convince herself that there's still a glimmer of that hope or at least a thread which she can cling to. A tiny sprout in the garden. She finds none. Despair overwhelms her as she falls to her knees on the muddy ground and stares numbly at the decaying, abandoned house that once had a name but is now long forgotten. She thinks about going inside and scouring the place for anything interesting but is too weary to move. She wonders how long it will be before they get bored and throw her into deep space. She wonders about the other prisoners on board. Were they in white rooms as well? Were they being tormented by the ghosts of their pasts? A rat scurries past, disrupting her pondering. "Where are you going?" she asks, following the rodent to a burrow underneath a tree. It squeaks before darting into its hole. "Don't go!" she begs. "Please, I'm so lonely. Do you feel the same way? We can be friends, you know." The rat does not respond nor does it come out of its hiding place. Perhaps it knew about her past and wanted to condemn her for her actions. She sits on the roots of the tree and mourns since that is the only thing she's capable of doing at the moment.


	12. Day ???

She's starting to forget things like the taste of custard creams and the feel of soft fur under her hand. Time is irrelevant here but not knowing the date feels wrong. How long has she been here? Weeks? Months? Years? Centuries? It frustrates her. The silence frustrates her. Everything in this wretched room makes her scream. The white does nothing but torment her so she retaliates. She lunges at the sneering creature and claws at its eyes, attempting to gouge them out. When that doesn't faze it, she resorts to punching and slamming her fists against the cell wall until she can paint over the white with her blood. She smears crimson across the smooth surface and lets it drop to the floor before stepping back. A strangled sound escapes her; it's a mix between a laugh and a sob. Gradually, it becomes a manic, hysterical laugh that leaves her wheezing on the floor. She doesn't feel the throbbing pain in her hands because she's won. She has finally subdued the demon; she was victorious. Time Lord Victorious, she thinks with a grin. Yes. Yes, she was the time lord victorious. The time lord victorious controlled the laws of time. The Time Lord Victorious was...was...

Wrong.

_"The Time Lord Victorious is wrong!"_

"Oh."

_Oh..._

O.

"That's my name," Koschei says with that devilish grin on his face. He's leaning over her with his foot on her chest. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Isn't that the old saying, Theta?" He chuckles darkly. "Look at yourself. Look what you've become: you're such a pathetic little time lady. No pets, no hope, no TARDIS, no way out. How does that feel, huh?" He lifts her up by her throat and squeezes the air out of her mouth, making her writhe and claw at his wrist with her broken hands.

"Fuck off," she choked out. Something sharp was suddenly stabbed into her side. What was that? A knife? Koschei dropped her on the floor and store off out of her line of sight. She struggled to stand but the pain was too much. She coughed up blood and slumped to the ground as her vision became fuzzy and turned dark.


	13. Day ???

"Look at the fucking mess you made. Do you know how much effort I put into waxing these walls and making everything shiny?" She flinches at the intensity and harshness of Xatra's voice as she's dragged down the corridor to the medical bay. "I was in _such_ a good mood today and you ruined it."

"I'm sorry," she whispers in a shaky voice.

"Now I have to take care of your fucking hands and change your cell." She stares up at her. _Change my cell? What does that mean?_ "At least you won't have a death wish then." Xatra lashed her tail furiously, nearly smacking the Doctor's face with it. The latter flinched away. Her hands were aching after that fit and she was beginning to wish she had gouged her eyes out instead. At least then she wouldn't have to see the blinding white anymore. "What do you think your pets would've thought if they'd seen you like that? I bet they'd think you were shit."

"You don't know them," she growled.

"You can't even remember their faces now can you?" She fell silent. It was true. She had forgotten what her fam looked like despite trying her best to remember who they were. That scared her. How would she be able to tell who was who when she got out? But...she wouldn't need to. They were gone. Just like Gallifrey and her friendship with the Master. Xatra picked up on her quietness by commenting off-handily, "Can't remember mine either."

"Doesn't that make you sad?"

"You get numb to loss eventually. Everyone does." Do we? The Doctor couldn't be sure about that. The thought of not being able to feel anything when she looked at Gallifrey chilled her to the bone. She wondered how Koschei would feel about that. He was full of emotions, though most of it boiled down to rage in this incarnation. If she wanted to get sentimental about Missy, she'd thrown pain in there too for good measure. He'd mostly be pissed at the notion and try to turn Xatra into a toy. _Classic Koschei,_ she thought to herself with a mixture of minor affection and bitterness. A new sense of dread washed over her as the doors to the medical wing opened. The first thing she thought was needles. Needles, injections, pain. So much pain.

 _"You're just ill and need a doctor. Lucky for you, I'm just the person you need."_ An affectionate tap on the nose. A gentle smile. Pain. Screaming.

She thrashes and claws at Xatra's arms as she tries to escape her harsh grip. "No! No no, please! Please, I don't want to go there," she begs, trying to distance herself from the room. "Get off! Get off me!"

"Shh, it's alright," a new voice says, taking her away from Xatra. "Don't worry, I've dealt with her before." It's a woman with platinum hair and hazel eyes. "Come along, Theta. Let's you bandaged up." She smiles kindly but there's something off about her. The Doctor does not like this new feeling arising within her. Fear, recognition, and warmth all mixed up into one. She shakes her head pleadingly.

"I don't want to go."

"You need a doctor to take care of you. I'm here to help." She looks up at Xatra who just shrugs.

"Do what you want," the captain said dismissively. "Just don't kill her." The stranger looks amused at the thought but says nothing. She takes the Doctor's arm and gently coaxes her forward.

"I'm only gonna patch up your wounds this time." _This time?_ "Sit down for me, will you?" Hesitantly, the Doctor obeys. "How did you get hurt this time?" She doesn't respond. "You can talk to me, sweetie. I want to be your friend. Can we be friends?"

"...okay."

"Cool. So how'd this silly little Time Lady hurt her hands?"

"I did it on purpose," she mumbled, looking down at the floor. "Couldn't look at white all the time."

"Ah. Clever girl." She lifts her head.

"Who are you? How do you know me?"

"My name's Tectuen. I took care of you when you were very young before I went into self-exile to discover the world." Tecteun smiled warmly as she cleaned her wounds with cotton and alcohol.

"It's gone."

"What?"

"Gallifrey. The Master burned it all. He said something about the lie of the Timeless Child." She turned around and was silent for a long time.

"I see. So we're the last Gallifreyans, huh?" The Doctor nodded grimly. She felt her eyes sting and blinked back tears. Tecteun kissed her forehead lightly. "At least you still have me." The Doctor stiffened as she took her hand and wrapped it in gauze. When she was done, she patted her shoulder. "There. Good as new."

"What if I stop regenerating?" the Doctor asked, numbly.

"Why would you want to do that?" She shrugged.

"Sometimes, I don't want to."

"What stops you?"

"The universe needs me. I have a duty of care and if I don't stop the monsters, a lot of children are going to die." She paused. "But I can't do that now." Tecteun's expression was unreadable. She took her to another cell where a guard was waiting with a straightjacket. The Doctor didn't protest as the buff woman put the piece of clothing on her and shoved her into the padded white cell. She turned to see Tecteun watching her with that indecipherable expression of hers before turning on her heels and walking away. That was the last she saw of the strange woman.


	14. Day ???

She hates this place more than the last one. No matter how many times she tries, she can't distract herself from the blinding white. She wails and sobs until her voice is hoarse and she has no choice but the sleep. She feels like a rose withering away in a closet with no sunlight or water. Her petals shrivel up and darken until they scatter to the floor and the bud droops depressingly. Her hair has reached past her shoulders now and the ravens in her chest cry unrelentingly for something they cannot attain. She goes to the garden and sits on the old swing set next to Koschei. They don't speak to each other but she doesn't mind. She likes it when he doesn't speak. She herself has nothing to say to him. Sometimes they sit under the tree next to the dried-up ponds and lean against each other. She doesn't mind when he kisses and nuzzles her forehead. It's what she had wanted before with Missy and it's something she'll never get with him now. _How tragic,_ she thinks, ignoring the dull pain in her hearts. He likes sunsets. She can tell by the way he nestles closer to her and stares in child-like wonder at the dipping sun and all it's glorious colors. "Sunrises are better," she wants to tell him. "Have you seen a sunrise Koschei? Have you seen one on Earth? It's beautiful. Would it remind you of me?" She doesn't say any of this. She knows how it'll end if she does. So she rests her head on his chest and lets him toy with her hair as she listens to his heartbeats.

The Doctor doesn't receive many visitors. Only a few faces come to give her food and milk. Sometimes they let her starve for a good while until they decide to toss in a piece of white bread. They didn't bother removing her from the straight jacket so that made things more difficult and humiliating. Xatra visited sometimes when she was in a good mood. She'd stroke the side of her face and ran her hands through her hair while she cooed in one of those pet owner voices, "Have you been a good girl today? Have you been good to mommy? Who's a good girl? You are! Yes, you are, my little buttercup." Then she'd kiss her forehead and tell her what a good girl she was before leaving. The Doctor shuddered and leaned against the padded wall in her corner. A small part of her wanted the praise only for the reward of being given the occasional high dosage of drugs. She was beginning to crave the substance more oftenfor the soothing release Tetrasibilledryn gave her. She'd had to whine to get a shot of ginger ale from Xatra earlier today. _Why are you like this? You know better,_ she scolds herself, beating her head against the wall that refuses to hurt her. _Why? Why? Why?_ Eventually, she gives in and slumps to ground. She's slipping. Further and further, she drowns in the white that enslaves her. The walls begin to mock her again and for once, she cannot run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She gets rescued in the next chapter I promise guys


	15. Freedom

She was awoken by an explosion that caused the door to burst open. A man in a dark coat stepped out of the smoke and grinned at her. "Hey, Doc. D'ya miss me?" he asked. She didn't respond as he grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the cell. "C'mon, we don't have much time before the guards come and get us. Nice hair by the way." She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on but decided against it. Something about that grin was familiar. Her brows furrowed as she tried to put on the face. _Am I dreaming? Is this a hallucination?_ she wondered, stumbling a little as they made a turn towards a blue police box. Her rescuer pushed open the door and shoved her inside as angry voices drew closer. Her breathing hitched as she took in her surroundings. Color. There were different colors, particularly honey, blue, and black. She would've cried if a young girl hadn't nearly tackled her as she embraced her.

"You're okay," she whispered, squeezing her tightly. The Doctor squirmed out of her grasp and turned to face the bloke who'd rescued her. His smile was replaced with concern.

"Doc, what's wrong?" _I don't know,_ she wanted to say. _Who are you again? What are you doing here? Why do I feel like I should know you?_ Self-consciously, she looked down at the floor. He stepped closer and reached forward. She flinched away. "Hey, don't worry," he assured in a soft voice. "I'm only gonna take this off." Warily, she allowed him to do so. "We need you to get us out of here, Doc. Can you do that?" She didn't say anything. "Are you usually this quiet?"

"No, something's wrong," the girl responded, standing beside her. "She has a habit of going on tangents whenever she's excited about stuff."

"They must've done something really awful to keep her quiet like that," a new voice said from not far away. The Doctor felt the slightest bit of frustration at not recognizing that voice. Why couldn't she remember!? Her vision blurred but she blinked back the tears and sighed. She let her arms fall to her side as the jacket was removed. The man in the dark coat glanced at the door as he took her to the TARDIS console and asked how to get home. She herself didn't know. Being stuck in that cell made everything fuzzy and difficult to remember things. "Jack, I don't think she'll be of much help," the white-haired bloke put in. _Jack...Jack Harkness?_ Was that his name? And then there was...there was... She bit back a scream of frustration and heard a familiar soothing hum at the back of her mind. She sits on the floor next to one of the pillars and pulls her legs close to her chest. The others are saying something but she can't hear them. She's tired and cold and hungry. She just wants to curl into a ball and sleep until the ravens in her chest go away or die. With a deep sigh, she rests her forehead on her arms and closes her eyes.

* * *

A hand gently nudged her awake. Jack was crouched in front of her with a box of take-out sitting in his lap. "I brought you something to eat." He opened the box that had a burger and chips. She hesitated. None of this felt like a dream but she couldn't be sure. Koschei seemed real at the time and Tecteun...no, she'd been real. The gauze was still on her hands. Slowly, she took a chip and ate it. Oh, how she missed the taste of chips. She missed a lot of things, she noted as she stuffed a handful into her mouth. "They didn't feed you much did they?" She shook her head. "Doctor..." He held her hand and squeezed it lightly. "What did they do to you?" _They broke me._ She wants to tell him how much she missed him and her...her...team? Gang? Fam? Fam, yes. Ryan, Yaz, and Graham. She'd missed them and had eventually forgotten their faces. _Just like Clara._ Her voice didn't want to work at the moment. Jack kissed her temple lightly. "You're safe now," he promised. "I won't let anyone else hurt you." The Doctor couldn't bear to look at his heartbroken and pitiful expression. There was no way she'd let the others give her the same look. She tried to steady her breathing as she stumbled into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Fuck," she whispered, placing her trembling hands on her temples as she sank to the floor. "Stop it. You're in the TARDIS. Nothing can get past those doors. Just-" She tugged at the roots of her hair, trying to stifle a cry of distress. How long had she been away? How much did she miss? She looked down at her hands. _Look at what you did to yourself. Why do you have to be so reckless? Why can't you just do what you're told?_ the Doctor asks herself bitterly. _Why do you have to be so weak? Why do you have to let your fam see you like this?_ She shakes her head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid _fucking whore!"_ She slammed her fist on the wall, causing a jolt of pain to shoot through her arm. She buried her face in her hands. Outcast, abandoned, alone.

 _-Not alone,-_ the TARDIS hummed gently. _-Not an outcast and not abandoned. Loved. You are loved.-_

"I'm broken."

 _-You can be fixed.-_ The Doctor shoved another sob down her throat and focused on steadying her breathing. _In and out. In and out. In-_ There's someone knocking on the door.

"Doctor? It's me, Yaz. Can I come in?" She lets her come inside because it's better than being alone. Yaz hands her a large quilt blanket that'd been handmade. "Jack managed to get us home while you were asleep," she explained. "I told my nan you weren't doing too well and she wanted me to give you this as a gift." Gingerly, the Doctor took the blanket and draped across her chest. It soft and rough in different patches. Some parts, like the smooth silk, reminded her of the first cell she'd been put in. She didn't like those parts. Overall, it was a nice quilt. She figured she'd keep it. Yaz checked her phone. "Uh, I've got to go. I could take you to my flat if you want. You could stay there for a little while until you're better." The Doctor stood shakily. She couldn't stand being alone. Not after her experience with Xatra.


	16. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to upload, y'all. Quarantine made me lose some of my motivation to work. Stay safe out there and make sure to wash your hands frequently.

The Doctor wrapped the quilt blanket tighter around her body and picked at her food with her fork. She nudged the flatbread away and took a tiny spoonful of rice. She could feel the others' gazes on her as she quietly ate. It brought her back to the freezing prison where the guards would have to watch her eat so none of it would go to waste. Then they'd beat her when she didn't finish the whole thing. Or they'd drag her to another room where they...no. _No, don't think about that. You're safe here,_ she tells herself. _They're not going to hurt you._ But she remembers. Great Rassilon, she remembers. A hand touches her shoulder, pulling her out of her trance. She stiffens and shrugs it off in the most polite manner she can muster. Through her foggy vision, she can see Yaz's mum telling her something. She doesn't remember crying. Fuck, why did she have to act like such a kid in front of everyone? Why does she have to be so broken? She sniffs and wipes the tears from her eyes with the cuff of her sweater. The fork falls as she puts her hand down. "Sorry," she mumbles in a tiny voice.

"It's alright," Yaz's mum, Najia, says, picking the utensil up off the ground. "Why don't you go sit on the couch for a bit. I'll save your food for later." The Doctor nodded, avoiding her gaze. She shuffled to the couch that doubled as her bed and sat on the far corner, clutching a pillow close to her chest. Her nails dig into the fabric as she steadies her breathing. _You're safe. You're fine. They're gone now,_ she tells herself. _No one's coming to take you away._ It doesn't stop the tears streaming down her face so she curled into a ball and buried her face into the pillow.

* * *

She can't sleep at all that night so she goes outside for a walk. A breeze ruffles her hair as she aimlessly walks down the street. Somewhere a dog barks. _Maybe you'll find something interesting like an alien,_ Brain Two quips. She doesn't think she has the energy to chase one down tonight. Her spirits are low and the ravens haven't died yet. Loneliness gnaws at her hearts as she picks up her pace a little, searching for a distraction. She turns as a voice calls her name from somewhere. "Doc, what are you doing out here?" Graham asks, trotting up to her. "I thought you were staying at Yaz's." The Doctor avoids his gaze and shifts awkwardly. "Can't sleep, eh?" She shakes her head. "C'mon, I'll make you some tea."

"Thank you," she mumbles, forcing herself to follow him to his flat. When they arrive, she sits at the table and watches him prepare the tea and heats up a muffin from the pantry. Her gaze drifted to the TARDIS that sat in a corner of the living room. Oh, how she missed the thrill of running.

"You've been thinking about traveling again, Doc?" Graham asks, handing her a cup of tea. She nods, tearing her eyes away from her old girl. "I think you should get some therapy first. You can't go around saving people with all that trauma weighing you down." _I've done it before,_ she wants to say. _I'm very good at it, actually._ She doesn't say any of that, though. Why would she? It'd just open up a conversation she'd rather not have.

"Yaz thinks so too," she responds before taking a small sip and savoring the sweet taste. She doesn't know when she'll be deprived of flavor and rough surfaces again. She hopes not very soon, maybe never. "I've got a session in a few days. Not very excited, to be honest." Graham chuckled softly.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he assured. The Doctor smiled weakly, avoiding his gaze. If she was being honest with herself, she was dreading the meeting with her therapist. She'd never gone to human therapy before; was it like Gallifrey's? What was she supposed to say? Fuck, how was she supposed to act casual about her identity? Hey, I'm a Time Lord that was recently traumatized and needs to escape my feelings. No, that won't work. A sigh escapes her lips. "You know you're not alone, right?" She nods solemnly. "You've got us to talk to if something's bothering you." She took a bite out of her muffin. There was no way she could share her burden with her fam. They wouldn't understand the pain and heartache she had to bear. She couldn't let them die trying to be like her or because of her foolishness. They were not going to be another Clara or Bill or Donna. No more Children of Time, no more weapons of war, no more DoctorDonnas.

"Thanks for the tea, Graham," she says after finishing up her cup and muffin. She stood and headed for the TARDIS.

"You're not gonna take a nap first?"

"Nah, I'm fine. There's something I gotta do real quick." She gave him a reassuring smile before disappearing into her ship.


End file.
